


Stitch Yourself Back Together

by oliviathecf



Series: Kinktober 2019 [29]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics), Green Lantern (Comics)
Genre: Arguing, Break Up, Bruises, Kinktober, Kinktober 2019, Light Angst, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-12 22:11:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21233381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oliviathecf/pseuds/oliviathecf
Summary: For Kinktober 2019. Day twenty-nine.He was finally done.





	Stitch Yourself Back Together

**Author's Note:**

> I had nothing for this one until I finally did. And then I really, really liked it.
> 
> Enjoy!

Standing in front of him, uniform hanging off of his battered body in shreds, Hal just couldn’t feel anymore alone. Bruce looked at him without really seeing him, leaning against the wall of the locker room, eyes sweeping over his body. His gaze was hot and greedy on the bruises pressed into his skin, and Hal shivered despite himself, drawing his arms around himself.

“Do you hate me?” Bruce asked and, God, it was such a loaded question.

But every question Bruce asked was fucking loaded, and he really was done with it. He thought that Bruce might get off on hurting him, it was the only explanation for why Bruce did any of it to him.

Maybe he got off on it too though, the pain, the anger that flowed through him without restraint. Maybe that was the only way he could be free, the slow destruction of his mind and body, all by a man who wore a bat costume.

There were a lot of maybes in what they did. Maybe there was a universe where they were happy, maybe there was a universe where they didn’t do any of that shit to each other, maybe there was a universe where they never fucking met. And maybe that was the happiest thought of all, a Hal Jordan out there who didn’t go through any of it. 

It was easier to imagine never meeting him than to imagine them being happy together. He didn’t think that a happy version of Bruce existed, certainly not a version of Bruce that would put up with him. And that was why he had to stop it, because maybe he fucking deserved someone who would do more than just put up with him. Someone who didn’t have so many requirements, boxes to check off until Hal was _good enough_.

“Don’t fucking ask me that, Bruce.” Hal said, and he hated how bitter and hoarse he sounded. 

Most of all, he hated how Bruce always managed to affect him. Wormed under his skin, standing there looking unruffled while Hal managed to look like a train wreck. He pressed his fingers into the bruises on his arms, compulsion and a desire to feel pain in a _physical_ way swirling inside of him. 

Compulsion and a desire for someone to hurt him, that was what drew him to Bruce in the first place. It was his own fault, if he had been able to handle himself, he wouldn’t be in any sort of mess. But his whole life was a mess, Bruce was just another piece of his long line of fuck ups.

And that particular fuck up was pushing himself into Hal’s personal space like he had a right to it.

“I think you hate me more than I hate you.” Hal said and it felt true, felt good to see the self assured look on Bruce’s face crumple away.

Bruce didn’t seem to have an answer for it, and Hal snorted. His lips split into something that was closer to a snarl than a sneer, pushing himself into Bruce’s face.

“Do _you_ hate me, Brucie?” Hal said, hands landing on Bruce’s chest and pushing him away slightly.

It had to be true. Of course it was true, of course Bruce hated him. He never made that anything but clear, that what they did was about anything other than hate. But maybe he was too fucking tired to hate Bruce anymore, maybe the only energy he had left was for total indifference.

Bruce didn’t answer him. Rather, he was finishing the job, tearing his uniform away fully to reveal his half-hard cock, thickening between his thighs. A fist gripped him tightly, like Bruce was intending it to be some lie of an answer, that he didn’t hate him. But a fucking handy wasn’t going to make Hal think that Bruce liked him or _loved_ him, it just confirmed that there wasn’t even anything like friendship left between them.

If Bruce couldn’t even talk to him, there was nothing left but the sex and the mismatched feelings. It was the only way they could hold it together, Hal arching into his hand.

At least Bruce knew what he was doing, knew how to stroke Hal just right until he was letting out little ragged noises into the slightly chilled air of the locker room. 

Hal let out a hoarse laugh, an ugly sound that filled the space between them, sharp enough to have Bruce’s face turning down. It felt wrong to look at him, like he wasn’t meant to really see him, so he tilted his head back and looked up at the ceiling as Bruce continued to jerk him off.

There was something so entirely unsexy about it, leaning his bare ass against the wall behind him while he could only think about how his life was just a comedy of errors. 

Maybe it was time to make some changes. He couldn’t keep doing this shit anymore, he needed to do better. To stop getting in his own way, making the same mistakes because it was easier to write it all off as another fuck up. Because it was easier to just stay in the same shitty habits, to say that he was too old to be anything but the wreck he had become. 

He could fix this shit. He could fix himself.

Hal pulled his eyes away from the ceiling, tilting his head down until he was staring to cold, ice blue. He met Bruce’s gaze head on, holding eye contact, a grin spreading across his face.

“No, I don’t hate you,” He panted out, hips pushing up hard into that hand, “I don’t feel anything about you, Bruce.”

Bruce looked away and that was enough for Hal’s hips to stutter up once more, spilling hot cum onto the floor between them. He laughed with it, breathless and amused by the sight of pearly white splattering over Bruce’s usually pristine hand.

Hal drew his arms around himself, pressing into the bruise one last time. He’d let himself have one more moment, watching Bruce as he stared at his ruined hand.

Then he was calling for his ring, uniform shimmering around him, complete and unblemished. It hid all the bruises, hid everything from Bruce’s vulnerable eyes. He took the steps towards the door, pausing as it slid open to look back at Bruce.

“Hey, Bruce,” He said, raising his fingers to his forehead in a mock salute, “thanks for the handy. Hope I don’t see you for a very long time.”

And, as he flew off, he didn’t even think about looking back.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave some love (or hate) either here or on my various social media pages.
> 
> [ Fic Blog. ](https://fanfictionolivia.tumblr.com/)   
[ Twitter. ](https://twitter.com/fficolivia)
> 
> This is a part of Kinktober 2019. You can read all of the fics for the month, or you can pick and choose your favorites. Either way, stay tuned for a new kinky fic every day of October!


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